General Monroe and Sasha
by FrenchyFry
Summary: Will Sasha manage to kill General Monroe? Some serious hot stuff toward the end of this fiction. Thank you for reading and please, review if you wish!


Disclaimer: They are not mine. I do not own Revolution or any of its characters. But Sasha is mine. Oh, btw, I wouldn't mind owning David Lyons! :-)

Some serious hot stuff toward the end of this fiction.

Excuse my mistakes (hopefully not too numerous!) as English is not my first language.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you wish.

General Monroe and Sasha

My name is Sasha. I am 29 years old. Not beautiful per se but I have been told that my face is quite unforgettable. Maybe because of my eyes, pure liquid gold, or my mouth, full and pink? I had always considered myself as average; my nose was a bit too big, my short curly brown hair too unruly, I was too thin and too small. At almost 30, people would often mistake me for a teenager, which would make me mad every time! So to compensate my small frame, I had become quite good at fighting. Being raised with two older brothers, one could say I had years of experience!

After the blackout, we had been forced to relocate in order to survive. We were constantly moving, on the roads, living off people's generosity and kindness. My parents were both teachers, quite educated but completely at lost in the countryside. Being educated didn't put food on the table after the blackout. Being a farmer, a hunter, a tough son of a bitch, yes, that's what you needed to be…not gentle souls!

My dad had gotten sick with cholera and had passed away very quickly. I was left with a devastated mother and my brothers. We learned to hunt, skin animals and steal whatever we could steal to feed ourselves. Our lives changed for the best when we came upon a small village. We were dirty, famished, feverish from two years of duress and privations. A man saved us. His name was Ben. He was older, with two kids of his own. He was in charge of the small village we were trying to rob and he was also the one who caught me trying to steal a …goat! Instead of chasing us away, he had offered my family hospitality and a safe place to stay.

I didn't want to stay but my mother was too weak to go on and Michael my oldest brother, now in charge of the family, had accepted the offer. It was supposed to be temporary, he had told us, just so we could get strong again and be able to get back on the roads. Michael was 8 years older than me. He had always had a good head on his shoulder. He was reliable and responsible. He was also so handsome. He was my hero, even though I was rebelling against his authority quite often!

So, we settled down. Ben's daughter, Charlie, was a little girl, who was following me like my own shadow. Her brother Danny, was just a toddler, his health was bad. Their mother had just left them, and both our families were dealing with loss. So we became quite close. Months became years, we had a new life, as stable and safe as we could make it in this new world.

I needed my space though. After all, I was still a teenager! I was moody at times, and only running through the forest would bring me peace. I would always come back, after hours of running and I became quite good at hunting. My favorite weapon? Knives. When I was hunting, I felt like my knives were part of me, cold, shiny, an extension of my body. I knew that my family was worried. I was like a wild animal that no one could tame.

Now, you probably wonder why I haven't told you about my second brother yet.

Well, Justin is the reason our lives got shattered again and for good this time. Justin was 5 years older than me. A lazy child, then a lazy teenager, with a dark side, constantly arguing with my dad and envious of his older brother. He was mean too. He would break my dolls just to watch me cry and then rough me around. I often heard, as a child, my parents arguing about him. My mom always defended him, which didn't help. He knew how to manipulate my mom and could be a charmer too. But he really never fooled us.

One day he got into a heated argument with Michael. They started fighting, Justin broke Michael's nose. My mom was screaming, Michael was bleeding badly; Ben was trying to plead with him. But Justin just laughed at us. He told us that he was tired of this farmer's life and that he had decided to leave and to enroll in the Monroe Militia.

The Monroe Militia! What on earth was he thinking? They were brutal people, killing women, children, kidnapping young men and women to force them to enroll. My mom begged, we all begged, but he left. Just like that. It broke my mom's heart. She died a few months after Justin left. Before her death, she had begged Michael to go search for Justin and this big dummy promised he would bring back his brother to the family he had left.

And then Michael left me too. He left me to Ben and his family. He told me that he would be back, that I was strong and that I needed to make a life for myself. My last words to him were harsh and I will regret it for the rest of my life.

I survived the loss of my family, waiting for my brothers to return. It never happened. I became hard and it was difficult to reach me because I was lost, deep within myself. I was dull. I had no feeling left, no desire for a better life. I was just a shell, smiling and going through life like a robot. Till that day where my life got shattered again. Till the militia killed Ben and kidnapped Danny. Till Charlie left with hatred in her heart, looking for her brother. I had no choice anymore. I couldn't afford to hide any longer.

I have been on the road for a year now, looking for Charlie, looking for Danny, hoping to find Michael. I used my knives often. I killed because I had to, because I wanted to live. I discovered that my petite frame was an advantage. People wouldn't see me come. I looked harmless but my O my, were they surprised when my knives were gutting them!

After Atlanta and Philly disintegrated under the bombs, I worked in a fair as a knives thrower, challenging big, strong men to beat me at it. I always won. That's where I met General Monroe for the first time. He didn't look anything like a general any more. He was haggard, drunk too much and indulged in too many whores. He was pathetic, really! I spent a few weeks trying to find a way to approach him. I would kill him, I knew it. I had to kill him. I became obsessed. He still had some spunk in him though. I would go sometimes and watch him fight other men. He would win, of course. 20 some years of fighting dirty were quite the experience!

At night, I would dream of slashing his throat; I would be gutting him like a pig. He would beg for his life, telling me where I could find my brothers and Charlie and Danny too. I was always waking up sobbing and shaking. It became my reason for living. HE became the reason I went on living. I needed revenge.

What I didn't know is that Monroe had noticed me too. He didn't know whom I was but I had made quite a reputation for myself with my special skills.

One evening, when I was haranguing drunks and passersby to challenge me at knives throwing, I suddenly felt a strong presence behind me. I knew before turning that it would be Monroe. Up close, he was quite impressive. His icy blue eyes would stare at me, without flinching, no emotions showing on his face. That was some cold son of a bitch! My throat got dry, very dry. I felt awkward and suddenly feared that I had tackled a bigger prey than I could handle. But it was too late to back down. I don't know where I got the nerves but I told him:

- "Feel like a challenge tonight? Getting out of your comfort zone, aren't you? Come on, you look like you haven't been held enough as a child! I promise to hold you after I win!" And I smiled. That is, till he spoke…

- " What if I win? Should I promise to hold you too? " His smug grin made me want to rip his eyes out.

- "Confident aren't you, cowboy! If you win, I'll let you do whatever you want to me." People had started to gather around us, laughing and cheering.

He was exuding confidence and self-control, while mine was shattering at the speed of light. I proceeded in getting our targets ready. One for him, one for me. 5 knives each. I could feel his icy eyes on me, scrutinizing me. He was burning me without touching me. What on earth was I getting into?

-" Ready, cowboy?"

-" Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes at him, telling him:

-"It won't change the outcome, cowboy!"

Then I threw my first knife, right into the bull's eye. The crowd was getting bigger and louder.

Before I had time to say anything, he threw his knife right into the bull's eye too.

I was starting to sweat.

My second and third knife hit the target right next to my first one. So did his. The crowd was now delirious. My sassiness had deserted me. I was in trouble.

My 4th knife was my undoing. I missed the bull's eye. I couldn't even look at him, or I would have to kill him on site, right now, using my last knife. Right now? I looked at the knife in my hands, then I looked at him. My eyes must have betrayed me or he read my mind, because I saw him tensed. He would not go down that easily. I had no choice. I had to lose, so I could be alone with him, in some cheap, dirty trailer, close enough to kill him without a crowd surrounding us.

I threw my knife and missed the target. He looked at me for a moment, assessing me, his eyes probing me, questioning me….He threw his knife and he didn't miss the target. He had won! I was defeated.

He just told me: "let's go." And I followed him. Back to his trailer. He entered first. I hated him. I wanted him dead, by my own hands. God help me!

Once inside, he just sat down and coldly ordered me to strip. Strip! Asshole! I couldn't move. If I stripped, I wouldn't be able to use the small knife hidden in my jeans. I needed to move quickly. I smiled at him.

-" What's the rush, cowboy?" I was playing a role, moving my hips slowly towards him, hoping to look like one of his whores, alluring and oozing sex. I got closer, licking my lips suggestively. He didn't move, kept staring at me coldly.

He was just in front of me now. I removed my jacket and kneeled down. I started touching him, unbuttoning his shirt slowly but surely. His body was warm, not icy cold like his eyes! His skin was soft, not callous like his soul! He didn't move, never tried to touch me. His eyes were half closed. It was now or never! I brought my hand to the back of my jeans and before I could take my knife, one of his hands was on my throat and the other one was grabbing me in a vice-like grip.

I was no match; he knew I had a knife, he knew I wanted to hurt him and now, I was going to pay the price for my arrogance, for my inexperience in thinking I could take Sebastian Monroe down. I would go to hell and he would be the one to take me there! I couldn't breath, I was struggling painfully then I passed out.

When I woke up, my hands were tied up above my head, to some post on his bed. What? On his bed? I tried to move, wiggled like a worm. Unsuccessfully. I was still dressed though. How thoughtful of him! Or maybe he was just waiting for me to fully wake up before raping me and killing me?! Where was he by the way?

That's when I heard his voice, deep and calm. The man was a monster. A cold-blooded monster!

- "Who are you? Why do you want to kill me?"

- "Are you really asking me this stupid question, Sebastian Monroe? Who wouldn't want to kill you?"

I saw him flinched for the first time. Had he forgotten who he was and what he was?

- " You are a spineless coward. You couldn't fight me like a real man so you had to knock me out and tie me up? Why don't you just finish me and be done with it".

- "You will know when I am done with you, believe me".

I just laughed at his face. He came right next to me, my knife in his hand. He put the knife on my throat and started to unbutton my shirt, exposing my bra and small breast. Our eyes locked. My eyes never faltered. I could see that he was surprised. I was not begging for my life, neither did I seem scared. I was just too pissed off to be scared; I was out of my mind with anger, grief, and sorrow.

He was curious now; I could feel his eyes probing me. He was not used to people not fearing him, he was not used to people not bowing in front of him.

We both knew I was no match for him. Physically, I was just a tiny mouse rendered harmless without her knives. So what was he waiting for? The knife left my throat and just ripped my bra. I could feel the cold blade on my skin, on my nipples. I closed my eyes. I knew now. He wanted me to surrender to him, completely. He wanted my submission, but he would never get it. I would not submit to him, ever!

I suddenly gasped. His mouth had just latched on one of my nipples. He was gently suckling it. He was kneading my other nipple with his fingers. A wave of warmth spread into my core. It couldn't be! The man was an expert and not only at fighting wars! His mouth was now on my neck, biting, licking, and biting again. Not enough to break skin but enough to assert his male domination. I was determined to not make a sound. I would not give him this satisfaction. Hopefully, my body would not betray me!

He suddenly left me, taking with him the body heat he had spread on me. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to know. I tried to focus on my hatred for him, on my sweet brother, on my friends…I would not cave in, never, awww!

I suddenly felt the knife between my thighs….no, no, no…..he was toying with me. His hands were suddenly on my hips. I never moved. Never made a sound.

He pulled down my jeans. I was like a raggedy doll. He grabbed the knife again and my panties were gone, just like that! I was totally exposed. I didn't dare look at him by fear of my eyes betraying me. But I could feel his glare, his cold blue eyes all over me. I was so hot and flushed I could have burst into flames!

His hands were all over me. On my breast, on my stomach. He was not gentle or tender, he was now demanding.

He had not uttered a sound until now. When I heard his voice, I barely recognized it. It was charged with lust and something else...

- "I want you to look at me. Open your eyes!" I ignored him of course. I suddenly felt a sharp pain. He had violently pinched one of my nipples. I opened my eyes, anger flaring. For the first time ever, I heard him laugh. He knew what he was doing to me, he knew I was a fighter who would not surrender easily and I saw admiration in his eyes, admiration and something else…

His hand was now caressing my poor pinched nipple, O so gently. He was almost tender, taking his time, staring at my flushed face, wondering what it would take to break me down. His other hand was resting without moving on my mound. Just like a predator, waiting patiently for his prey. His fingers started moving against my clit. I closed my eyes but he grabbed me by the throat:

- " Open your damn eyes and look at what I am doing to you!" So I looked.

I looked at his hands on me, I looked at his eyes. He inserted one finger, never leaving my eyes. I was like hypnotized. I had no strength left. I couldn't move. He inserted a second finger and started rocking my clit and my inside at the same time. Back and forth, back and forth again! I could feel the heat in my core. I could feel how wet I was becoming. I hated him. I hated myself. But I never left his eyes. I would not surrender…as long as I could!

His fingers left my core and he touched my lips with it, forcing me gently to open my mouth. He told me to lick it and I did. His hand was shaking slightly. I was shocked. I realized then how much self-control Monroe had but also how much power on him I had. He was battling with himself. I could see it clearly now. It was a battle of the wills. And it was taking its toll on him. He could have just raped me and take his pleasure in no time, but General Monroe was much more sophisticated than that. He was bored and needed a challenge. He also required absolute control, body and mind. The man must have been a mind reader or was it just me that he was reading like an open book? He suddenly removed his fingers from my mouth and I felt him slowly going down on me. OMG, please no, not there, not his mouth torturing my clit.

- "Nooo, please! Awww!" He grabbed me firmly by the hips as I was trying to wiggle away. And his mouth latched on my clit. Biting again, licking, biting, licking. I was done, I would tell him he had won, my body had betrayed me, my mouth had betrayed me, my mind had betrayed me! He kept on going, bringing me closer to orgasm. I could feel tears on my cheeks. Was I fucking crying?!

I was almost there.

- "Please let me come". Had I just said that out loud? Shit! I was a mess, no pride left in me, no desire to fight anymore.

He left my clit and crashed my mouth with his, wiping my juices on my face, forcing his tongue inside my mouth. I couldn't breath. He was battling with my tongue. When I thought I would pass out, he grabbed my hips and swiftly entered me. I screamed. I saw madness in his eyes. Madness and lust and something else?

He started moving, slowly at first. It was maddening, I wanted him to fuck me like some cheap, dirty whore. I was mad. I was lost. I tried to close my eyes, but he grabbed my throat again. He didn't need to speak. I opened my eyes and looked at him. His face was distorted, he was losing the battle too. I could see it on his face. Our eyes locked again. He was ramming into me, like a stallion in heat! God, he was magnificent!

- "Say my name!" Three little words, that's all it took for me to unravel.

- "Sebastian!" I started screaming and bucking under him as I came. Violently. I passed out.

When I woke up, I was untied and alone. He had left. I was alive. Not whole, as I would never be whole again, but I was alive! Next to me was a note, in an elegant handwriting:

-"Till next time we meet!"

The end.


End file.
